Wrong Number
by ShadowShock
Summary: It all started with sloppy handwriting. Not his of course, the great Shredder had excellent penmanship! Really, how hard was it to make a five look like a five? And how did he end up talking to Irma of all people? -Challenge fanfic. Set in the '87 toon verse.
1. Channel 6 News

This fic was created after taking to heart reviews from a previous story. It was a self challenge to myself, the conditions being that I had to write a 1k fanfic in the TMNT '87 verse within a week. I also didn't allow myself to review any episodes or look things up online, other than for spell checking names. This is also what I consider a "raw" piece of work; I've gone through it twice to check for my regular mistakes and oddities but it has not been beta'd. All me. Any constructive learning pointers appreciated. With those fun tidbits out of the way, please read and I hope you get a few laughs out of it to make your day better.

Oh, yes. **Disclaimer** : Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all names associated with the series and product do not belong to me. I just use it for therapy.

* * *

The first time it happened, the very female voice on the other line was so unexpected he didn't exactly hear what she said. Instead he blinked and stammered in surprise.

"Er… Jeremy?"

"Who?"

His surprise quickly melted away and irritation made his voice sharp. "I'm calling for Jeremy!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" There was a shuffle of papers and in the background he heard a door slam. "I don't think we have any Jeremy working here."

"What are you-"

A voice on the other end bellowed, loud enough for him to yank the phone away from his ear. "Irma! Get Vernon on the phone and tell him to get his camera down to Central Park. Now! Now!"

"On it, boss!" The lady - Irma? Americans and their strange names - answered with an equally loud voice. "Alright handsome, thanks for the chat but I gotta get back to work. Call me back tomorrow and we'll set up a date, okay? I like restaurants that serve creamy soups and plenty of desserts."

She hung up on him while he was still sputtering out an appropriate response. It was just as well, he'd wasted enough time. The mighty Shredder did not go on dates! He slammed the phone down on the receiver and glared at the scrap of paper, studying the scrawled numbers again. Surely his informant hadn't provided the wrong number to him on purpose?

Just as he was about to crumple the paper and order Bebop and Rocksteady to go teach the informant a lesson, he took a closer look. Could that six actually be a five?

He looked at the phone and grimaced. He did not want to repeat anything like the last phone call. Oh well, part of being a leader was taking the unpleasant jobs right? He grabbed the phone and dialed the number before he could think too much on it.

Thankfully it was a deep voice that answered the phone and the man responded to the name Jeremy.

 _~TMNT~_

A month later, it happened again. This time though he wasn't as surprised and heard every word the secretary said.

And _then_ he was surprised.

"Channel 6 News?" he blurted without meaning to.

"Er, yes, that's what I said, wasn't it? Oh dear, did I say something else? Well, I meant to say that this is Channel 6 News and you're talking to Irma."

The female's voice sounded vaguely familiar but Shredder was too busy thumping his helmeted head against the wall to give it much consideration. Of all the things to do, he had to call the workplace of an ally to his turtle enemies.

"Who are you calling for?" Irma asked in the silence.

Shredder let his head rest against the wall with a final thump and sighed. "I actually didn't mean to call you, I dialed the wrong number."

"Oh, maybe it was destiny!" Shredder could hear the smile on her suddenly bright voice. "You know, I really appreciate a man who can admit his mistakes. It makes the relationship work out so much better."

" _What_?" Shredder jolted straight, blinking. "What relationship-"

Just then another voice cut in from the other line. "Irma, who is that?"

Shredder knew exactly who that voice belonged to; April O'Neil! He better not let her hear him, or it would be just his luck that she would try and trace the call in pursuit of her latest story. Namely, him. And Shredder wasn't ready for the camera just yet.

"I have to go, bye!" He slammed the phone down on Irma's protests and flopped down in his chair. How on earth had he managed to call Channel 6 News? Grumbling under his breath, he scooted closer to the desk and took a look at the number Krang had written down for him. Wait, was it possible that seven was a one instead? Stupid alien, couldn't even write numbers correctly!

 _~TMNT~_

That had not been the end of the matter, unfortunately. A dozen more wrong numbers dialed - half of which somehow ended up being answered by Irma at Channel 6 News - because of unclear handwriting. He managed to end most of the calls after only one offer for a date, but she was starting to recognize his voice. By the end of the month Shredder was swearing to send Bebop and Rocksteady back to kindergarten to learn how to write their numbers, a proposition that made the henchmen shudder. There had been a reason that they'd dropped out of highschool after all.

Yet despite his best efforts, Shredder still managed to dial the wrong number.

"Channel 6 News," the voice chirped, the cheer blatantly forced and barely covering the boredom underneath. "This is-

"Irma." He grounded out before Irma could finished. "I dialed the wrong number."

Again. He couldn't even blame sloppy handwriting for his mistake. How in the world had he managed to dial the wrong number - by _memory_?

"Oh, my mysterious handsome caller! You remembered my name too!" The boredom fled from her tone and the cheerfulness in her voice was genuine this time. "So when are you going to take me out?"

Shredder surprised himself by not hanging up the phone right away. If he was going to keep calling up Channel 6 News it was best to clear the air out. "Look, Irma, there is no-"

"Saki!"

Krang chose that moment to bellow for him from where ever he was. Of course. As if he was some sort of menial servant at the alien's beck and call. For such a big brain Krang was quick to forget that it was due to Shredder's efforts they had gotten so far.

"You should have told me you work at a Japanese restaurant!" Irma all but squealed. "I love authentic Asian foods! Where is it?"

Shredder rolled his eyes and let out a long suffering sigh, resisting the urge to explain in detail the difference between sa- _ke_ and Sa- _ki_. "No, I don't-"

"Oh, don't be so shy!" Irma interrupted him. "That would be a great place to meet up. How about this evening?"

"No, I-"

"Well, how about tomorrow?"

"No!"

"Next week? Next month?" she added quickly before Shredder could respond. Not that he could at the moment. He was still trying to work his mind around the idea that someone dared to press him, the great Shredder, Ninja Master of the Foot Clan, for an answer other than "no". Wait... Shredder narrowed his eyes as he quickly replayed the conversation in his head. Was that desperation he was hearing?

"Saki!"

Shredder winced as the sound of shattering glass echoed down the hallway, accompanied by a squeal - Bebop caught on the wrong end of Krang's temper tantrum no doubt. Krang loosing his temper was the perfect excuse to forgo any manners and end the ridiculous phone call.

"I've got to go." He said shortly, slamming the phone down as Krang bellowed again. Never again, he promised himself. No more calling Channel 6, no more letting himself get caught up in strange conversations. He was a Ninja Master after all.

He should of known that Fate had different ideas.

* * *

Edit June 18, 2015: Corrected Kraang (2012 spelling) to Krang (1980's spelling).


	2. Luck Dragon

Here is part two of what was suppose to be just a oneshot. You folks have 26+ chigger bites to thank for getting the chapter out this soon, I would distract myself from the itching by working on sewing this part together. Did I mention itching? Lots and lots of itching? In other news, I've been teaching my computer's dictionary words like Technodrome, Kraang and such. Also, there will apparently be a part three. x.x

Enjoy! I hope you get a smile or a laugh out of this and your day becomes a little more bearable, if not brighter.

* * *

"Channel 6 News, Irma."

Shredder sighed, glancing down at the dialpad. Two months later and he was still accidentally calling Channel 6 once a week. He stopped being surprised and decided to see it as some strange ninja verbal training. Though sometimes, even if he knew better, he suspected that someone had programmed the speed-dial with Channel 6's number.

At least he now had a face to go with the name.

"Irma," he greeted. "What a surprise."

"Oh, my mystery caller..." Her voice was limp, lacking its usual touch of irony. When she didn't say anything else, Shredder spoke up hesitantly.

"I'm afraid I called you by mistake."

"Of course," she sniffed. "I'm silly for thinking anyone would call me on purpose."

"What-?" Shredder blinked, a bit stunned at the self loathing he was hearing. Where had all _that_ come from? Usually she was more than happy to declare the coincidence as destiny - in fact, why wasn't she demanding any dinner dates already; she rarely waited the polite limit of thirty seconds before bringing it up.

Wait. Shredder narrowed his eyes as he heard another barely muffled sniff. Was she... crying?

Curiosity flickered to life. Sure, he was Shredder; the one and only ruthless and devious ninja. That was never in question. But Irma wasn't part of his plans at the moment, if she had ever been on his previous, uh, "visits" to the Channel 6 tower. At the most she was annoyingly clumsy, though Shredder figured there was a dragon sitting on her shoulders to give her the luck of stomping on toes - both figuratively _and_ literally - at the most inopportune times. But an enemy? On the same level as the Turtles or even that accursed April O'Neil?

Not even close. So his curiosity was perfectly legit and even safe. After all, a ninja had many skills that he needed to keep sharp.

"Irma," he paused and hazard a guess. "Did you fall again?"

She laughed. "You could say that."

"Where did you hurt yourself?" he barely managed to stop himself from saying " _this time_ ".

"My heart." She hiccuped. "Hey, mystery caller, can I ask you something?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You always do."

"Well, I know this is a silly question considering you've never seen me - well, not that I know, you might have because you've never told me your name so how would I know if I've seen you or not-"

He grabbed his forehead, bit his tongue, reined in the surge of irritation at her ramblings and told her through clenched teeth. "Irma, that is not a question."

"What? Oh right, my question. Am I so fat I'm not attractive?"

He let his head slip from his hand and thump on his desk. Why him? Why didn't he back out when he had an opening? He was the leader of the feared Foot Clan, not some... some emotional therapist! And yet he found himself opening his mouth and saying. "Why would you even think that about yourself?"

"Well, I know I don't always eat the best - everyone says salad's the best but I can only eat greens for a week before I'm starving for some pork and eggs. And don't even mention ice cream, especially the ones made by that parlor-"

Shredder sat back in his seat properly, rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and tuned her out. Oh sure, he would have stopped her if he thought he could. But all the previous times his efforts in that direction had only made the conversations twice as long - plus the dangers of suddenly finding himself on some subject that was totally unrelated. And sure, he could just hang up on her, but then what else would he do the rest of the evening? Krang had left on some random chase of energy readings, taking Bebop and Rocksteady with him so there was no one to order around. Any important paperwork had already been done, and he'd already spent two hours staring at a map of New York City, trying to deduce where the Turtles' base was. Actually, now that he thought about it, who had he been trying to call?

Shredder blinked and shook his head, focusing back on Irma's voice.

"And so after I finally fixed the paper jam, fixed his accounting error, and got his documents copied and sorted to the right departments, Vernon said that my ability to do low class work was the only special thing about me, otherwise I'd get too fat to move from behind the desk, and, and," here Irma started hiccuping again. "He said that right as I was asking Deyvon out and I just know he was about to say yes until Vernon said that."

"Vernon?" He asked sharply. "Called _you_ low class?"

"Well, no... not, uh, exactly." Irma hemmed despite the undertone of agreement Shredder could hear in her voice. "He just said I did low class work."

"Close enough." Shredder growled, silently cursing to himself. "The little rat."

Vernon reminded Shredder of the old Japanese paintings of Europeans - big nose, thin lips, and beady eyes. His craving for glory coupled with a lack of any backbone made him a wonderful hostage and messenger boy for Shredder. It was that same trait that had Shredder unknowingly agreeing with the Turtles - Vernon was a rat. Leave it to him to sink to such insults.

"Well, maybe he's right, you know," Irma sighed. "What good am I?"

"What?" Anger rose in Shredder fast, sharp and hot. _He_ never let _them_ define him, never allowed them to shove his life into a predetermined box. He slammed a fist down on the desk and snarled. "And why do you think _that_?"

"Well, because Deyvon told me he was too busy for me. He wouldn't have said no if what Vernon said was untrue."

"Coward." Shredder snorted in derision. "Shows what they know! Why, you'd probably make a perfect secret agent."

It was true, Shredder didn't lie - well, not _often_ , unless your name was Krang. Or Hamato Yoshi. Or any of the Turtles. Or - Shredder decided it was in his best interest to drop the train of thought. The point was, no one ever suspected the clumsy ones. And there was the issue of a dragon sitting on her shoulders. One would have to be a fool to pass up that type of luck.

"Like James Bond?" Irma asked after a second of stunned silence.

"Er, I was thinking more on the lines of," _ninja_ , he almost said, correcting himself at the last moment. "Pinkerton."

"Pinkerton!" he could almost hear her mind changing gears. "Really? Why? I mean I can barely run down the block and-"

He cut her off, wincing at his own rudeness. But he had had all the rambling he could take for the day. "You know your numbers, you know how accounting works. Just follow the money trail and you can snap them in a trap of their own making."

"Hey, are you a secret ag-" Irma started to ask but the background of the newsroom was interrupted by a yell, the words not quite making it through the phone connection. Irma sighed. "I gotta go, mystery caller. I think Vernon got his tie stuck in the copier. Thanks for the chat!"

He pulled the phone away from his ear as the sharp _click_ signaled the end of the connection, scowling darkly at the device. How did he end up trying to cheer someone up - Irma Langinstein of all people? It wasn't like she had any charm or he was starting to actually like talking to her-

Shredder slammed the phone down on the cradle and added one more person to the list of people he lied to. Himself.

The phone rang as soon as he set it down. For a second he blinked in surprise at it. It couldn't be-? No, not even a dragon could provide the luck! He snatched it up. "What?"

"Finally!" Krang's slurpy voice came over the phone. "Do you know how many quarters I've used up on this payphone? You humans and your stupid communication devices, don't even have call waiting service! Who were you talking to anyway, your girlfriend?"

For the second time Shredder's anger flared and a small part of him was surprised at his reaction to such a casual jab.

"You have something to say, Krang?" he snarled, his chair clattering to the floor behind him as he jumped to his feet. "Come and say it to my face, you miserable excuse of a jelly brain!"

"My, my, no need to sprain your mouth trying to be insulting." Krang bit back. "Of course, if you didn't want to know that I've found an excellent source of energy for the TechnoDrome, you just had to say."

"Energy source?" With difficulty Shredder reined in his anger. It wasn't like Kraang never said anything true and at the moment he needed the alien's ability to find and utilize energy. "Took you long enough! Why are you calling me instead of getting it to the TechnoDrome?"

"Because, you thick headed mammal," Krang slurped. "I'm going to have to break some things to get it and I need _you_ to do the only thing you're good at. Distract the Turtles."

"Oh really?" Shredder grinned, his irritation sweeping away at the sudden plotting in his head. "Send Bebop and Rocksteady back to me. I have just the place to make our little distraction."

* * *

Edit June 18, 2015: Corrected Kraang (2012 spelling) to Krang (1980's spelling).


	3. Extra Toner Extra Dark

This story has gotten out of hand... really it has. It was suppose to be a oneshot. It was suppose to be a simple silly idea that Shredder was always making misplaced calls to Channel 6 and talking to Irma. It wasn't suppose to spawn a chapter that nearly hit 3k word count.

At least you folks get a smile out of all this. :D Thanks goes to **SewerSurfin** ' for pointing out the different Krang/Kraang spelling.

* * *

"Uh, boss..." Bebop picked at his white and blue overalls. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Of course it will," Shredder replied over his shoulder, too busy trying to get his arm guards to fit under the sleeve of his Xerox shirt. No way he was going into enemy territory without his signature weapon. "Any self respecting news office under the pressure of keeping the ratings ever rising won't question the good fortune of new equipment!"

"But I thought we were suppose to, you know, uh wreck stuff up?" Rocksteady hopped on one foot, trying to shove the other back into his boot. "I thought that's what distraction meant."

Shredder heaved a sigh and gave a pleading look to the ceiling. "We first have to get _into_ the building first, you thick-skull." He gave one last tug at the sleeves and added with biting sarcasm. "It wouldn't be much of a distraction if the Turtles stopped us on the first floor, now would it?"

"Huh, I guess that would be – whoa, whoa, whaaa!"

Shredder's head snapped up at Rocksteady's yelp in time to see the mutant lose his war with balance and go falling. Shredder's eyes went wide with horror and with a yell of his own he dove for the metal floor. It was only through his years of honed ninja skills that he was able to snatch the paper bag out from under the rhino without getting his hand mashed in the process.

"Watch where you're falling!" He peeked into the bag as he got to his feet, huffing a breath of relief when he saw that the contents were undamaged.

"Sorry, boss." Rocksteady ducked his head, deciding it was safer to finish getting his boot on before getting to his feet. "What's in that, anyway?"

"None of your business!" Shredder snapped irritably, snatching up the bag that held his cape. Better tuck his little secret surprise where it wouldn't get crushed by clumsy underlings. Slinging the messenger bag over his shoulder, he turned his attention back to said underlings. "Well, are you ready?"

"Gee, I still don't know boss, it's just a stupid machine..." Bebop hesitated, poking at the crate strapped to the handcart, then looked down at himself and smoothed out the clothes self consciously. "And are you sure I look like I belong?"

"You're a pig, Bebop," Shredder assured. "They have those in every company. You'll fit right in."

"Gee, thanks boss!"

Shredder rolled his eyes, pulled on the chain to lift up the rollaway door and shoved the two towards the handcart. "Whatever, now push that cart, we don't have all day!"

With only one near major mishap and nearly running over Shredder's foot – a record low for Bebop and Rocksteady – the two got the cart down the truck ramp that Shredder had parked right next to the Channel 6 News tower. In the ground floor lobby no one batted an eye as the three rolled up to the freight elevator.

"This is going _perfect_!" Shredder couldn't help muttering in satisfaction as the elevator doors opened up and he ushered Bebop and Rocksteady inside. "Now all that is left is-"

His communicator shrilled loudly, making Bebop jump in surprise, a beefy elbow catching Shredder in the ribs. Shredder wheezed, slugging the mutant in the arm in retaliation as he reached for the communicator and activated it.

" _Shredder_!" Krang's voice shrilled over the device. "Where is that distraction you promised me? I'm not seeing anything on TV yet!"

"Maybe you're just too busy watching Roommates on channel 25 to see if Jeremy goes out with Bonnie to switch over to 6?" Shredder grumbled, placing a hand over his ribs and glaring at Bebop. It felt like the bone was bruising already. Bebop gave a little squeak and shuffled as best as he could away from Shredder in the crowded elevator.

"There's no way Jeremy would go out with Bonnie, she wouldn't be able to stand – wait, that's besides the point, Shredder! Where is my distraction? This energy isn't going to steal itself, you know!"

"And Rome wasn't conquered in a day!" Shredder bit back. "Get off my back! I'm putting the plan in motion now."

"That's because Romans were far inferior to-"

Shredder clicked the communicator off, halting Krang's rant as the elevator gave a soft _bing_ , signaling the arrival to their floor.

It was a short trip from the elevator hallway to the Channel 6 lobby. Shredder's heart gave an unexpected hard thump as he caught sight of the secretary sitting at the desk; for a split second her brown hair pulled up looked quite roguish. If only she didn't hide under her typical loose, ill fitting, long sleeved blouses...

What was he _thinking_? He scolded himself for such a slip-up, he had more important things to focus on! Besides, even though it wasn't her shift he should have expected Irma to be at the desk. She had often expressed having to fill in other coworkers shifts and it would just be like her dragon's luck to be around when he was executing a plan. Hopefully she wouldn't recognize him at all.

The best way to deal with a situation like this, Shredder knew, was confidence. And lots of words. So he marched right up to the desk and started speaking right away, not even giving her a chance to think.

"Yes, good afternoon, we're from the Xerox Inc Research and Development department and we are here to provide you, Channel 6 News, one of our most valuable customers, with a personal demonstration of our latest copy machines!"

"Uh," Irma blinked in surprise. Good, his tactic was working already. "Copy machine demonstration? I, uh, don't see any of that on the visitor list..."

"What?" Shredder poured as much indignation into the English word as he could. He reached back and snatched the clipboard out of Rocksteady's hands, flipping the pages and pretending to look at something - and not to laugh at the poor drawing of Krang trying to lift weights. "It says right here on my schedule... you mean our secretary didn't even call?"

"Some people can forget so easily," Irma remarked. "Too bad too, it could have made a great addition to our Technology on the Move clip."

For a split second Shredder thought he would have to execute the final stage of his plan right then and there. But to his relief he caught sight of someone walking down the hall and raised his voice.

"This was a surprise demonstration, we haven't allowed any press release on this wonderful, brand new model that we were going to donate to Chanel 6 afterwards. But since you don't have an opening, we'll just head over to Chanel 9 and-"

He didn't have to go any further. Company Chief Burne Thompson had stopped halfway through Shredder's speech and at the words "donate" he hurried over. Mentioning Chanel 6's competition hadn't hurt either, Shredder could tell.

"Irma, what have I said about turning important guest away!" Burne all but shouted.

"But there's nothing on the guest list, Mr. Burne, and-"

"And nothing! This is perfect for that new focus on technology spot!" Burne interrupted, gesturing wildly. "Go get Vernon and his camera crew, go. Go, go! What am I paying you for?"

"That's not what you said about those clowns last week," Irma muttered under her breath as she reluctantly stacked some papers and got up. "And I had to be the one to kick them out."

With Burne shouting and pushing, they had Shredder setup in the conference room, machine unpacked and plugged in. With all the confusion, mostly from Burne's conflicting orders, no one noticed Bebop and Rocksteady slip away, off to cause havoc. Despite the fact that this was all for cover, Shredder couldn't help but feel a streak of satisfaction at the camera being set up. Once again he would be on TV, one way or another.

And his peers had told him his skin was too dark to ever be on television or have a chance to be famous.

Twenty minutes later he had the large copy machine hooked into the News Channel's computer network and ready to operate. After giving a basic rundown of how to operate it, emphasizing the need to be smart in order to properly operate such a new piece of technology, a he asked for a volunteer.

Predictably, Vernon stepped up without hesitation.

"Fifteen copies of my awards," Vernon ordered the machine while Shredder took a step back. "And make it snappy."

The paper in tray seemed to reach out and snag Vernon's tie, yanking it in. With a squawk, Vernon did a faceplant onto the scanning plate of the copy machine, the cover falling on top of him. The machine dutifully started scanning and spat out copies of Vernon's scrunched face.

"Oh, dear me," Shredder tried, he really did. But even he could hear glee under the false sympathy. Yet if it took longer than usual for Shredder to stop the machine and assist Vernon out of his predicament, no one watching said anything.

"I thought you said you were an intelligent man." Shredder remarked, still unable to keep his voice even as he helped the man straighten up. "You see, it takes someone with a good brain and excellent _class_ to be able to work this highly sophisticated machine."

"What, why that's just-" Vernon stammered, trying to straighten out his shirt and tie. There was a dark streak on his previously crisp tie, no doubt from the printer toner. "I highly doubt you'll find anyone better than me. I got my degree at Cambridge University, I'll have you know!"

"Hrmph, did you now?" This time Shredder didn't bother trying to keep the sharp bite of his words away. "We'll just see, won't we? You!"

Shredder flung out his arm and pointed at the crowd. Irma looked around until she realized that everyone was looking at her. She blinked, and pointed to herself. "What, me?"

"Yes, you, the cute secretary."

 _I so did not say that._ Shredder was aghast at the words that fell out of his mouth. _Of course I didn't mean it, I'm merely playing my part._

But he didn't have time or place to process those thoughts. Forcing himself to focus on the plan again, he gestured impatiently when Irma still didn't move. "Come on, come on, no need to dawdle. Isn't the newsroom all about moving quickly?"

"Yes, well, some of us never learn the speed limits." She said dryly, glancing over at Vernon as she stepped up. "Now, what do I do?"

"Just put your hand on this plate, like so," Shredder took her left wrist and moved her hand onto the blue metal panel. "Now you give it a voice command and the Sophisticated Onboard Network chip will do all the work for you."

"Uhh," Irma nibbled on her lip for a moment before saying, "Ten copies of my work schedule."

The machine chirp and hummed as gears and rollers started spinning. A minute later paper disappeared from the in tray and perfect copies of Irma's monthly schedule appeared on the other end.

Except for the last copy, that is. It came out with hearts printed all over it and bold letters saying "vacation time."

"Well, uh, that is unusual." Shredder was puzzled at the development himself. Sure he had programmed it to make Irma's commands priority and do the opposite of Vernon's. But he didn't think the AI chip was capable of making independent decisions. That was the risk of using equipment you swiped from your enemies.

Shredder made a grab for the heart imprinted page but Irma beat him to it, commenting as she looked if over. "Wow, this seems a little much for a copy machine to do, I mean look Chief Burne, it even shows that I'm overdue for vacation time."

"I'm sure there's just some mess up in those stupid computer machines," Burne quickly corrected Irma before turning his attention to Shredder with what was suppose to be a murderous glare. Shredder barely raised an eyebrow as Burne continued, his voice sharp. "What do you have to say for this big mistake, I thought Xerox was all about quality and customer service!"

 _Bebop, Rocksteady, you two mutant mammals better hurry up! I can't stay this nice for too much longer!_ Shredder pleaded in his head, gritting his teeth and refraining - for the moment, only the moment and only because Irma was right there - from showing Burne how little he cared what the news channel Chief thought.

"We certainly have a few wrinkles to smooth out. One thing for certain, this S.O.N. knows a good mind when it sees it."

Shredder gestured widely and there was a sharp tearing sound as the sleeves of his blue dress shirt gave way, long lines appearing in the fabric and revealing his metal bracers and their jagged edges.

Okay, so maybe wearing them hadn't been the best idea he had this week.

He was about to try and smooth things over with a cover story when there was a gasp and he turned to see April standing in the doorway. She pointed a finger at him and shouted. "Shredder!"

"Miss O'Neil," Shredder replied coolly, shifting the messenger bag on his shoulder and pulled the rest of the shirt off with another sharp rip of fabric.

Irma took several steps away from him, eyes wide as she glanced over him. "Wait, you're the Shredder? That Shredder? Oh boy."

"I knew Bebop and Rocksteady couldn't be here unsupervised!" April exclaimed but before she could say anything more Bebop and Rocksteady tumbled into the room right beside her, tripping over each other in their haste. Newsroom workers and assistants screamed and yelled in surprise, scattering out the side doors. April grabbed Irma, pulling her to the side while snatching a camera out of the hands of a fleeing Vernon who was out the door before he realized she had taken it.

"Boss! Your plan worked!" Surprise and alarm was in Bebop's voice as he paused, resting a hand against the wall and panting.

"Yeah, too well!" Rocksteady looked around fearfully. "The Turtles are here!"

"That was the whole point, you imbeciles!" Shredder pulled out his cape from the messenger bag, fastening the purple cloth to his shoulders with a snap of motion. "Do you always have to be so slow? I was running out of things to say!"

"Shredder!" For the second time his name was shouted and there was Leonardo, sword held out and pointed at you. Next to him, Raphael twirled a sai as he said, "Your little demonstration is starting to run over time."

"Funny, I was just about to demonstrate the automatic stapler feature." Shredder placed a hand on the command plate and shouted, "Stapler attack!"

With a whine of electronics, a tray opened up in the middle of the machine and several staplers started launching staples into the room. With a yell Leonardo and Michelangelo tackled April and Irma, pulling them behind some chairs.

With a flick of his wrist, Shredder dropped two smoke bombs at his feet that billowed out and filled the room completely with gray haze. Coughing slightly - he knew he shouldn't have left his face mask behind! - he grabbed Bebop and Rocksteady and dragged them out of the doorway.

They left the smoke behind once they cleared the room and his two henchmen needed no encouragement to go bolting down the hallway towards the elevator at full speed. Shredder quickly followed after them, glancing at the secretary desk as he sped by it. Wait, wasn't there something he had planned to do...

Blast, he'd almost forgotten! He skidded to a halt and backpedaled several steps to reach Irma's secretary desk. A quick glance towards the conference room showed smoke still billowing out of it and the enthusiastic shouts of teenage ninjas.

He had time.

Quickly, but carefully lest he crush the petals or thorns, he dipped his hand into the messenger bag and pulled out a single rose. Yellow, the color of cheerfulness. Next to it he placed a bar of sea salt chocolate - Irma always said she liked sweets - and a card before bolting down the hallway after Bebop and Rocksteady.

The card been an after thought, a cheerful painting of some New York street. When the florist offered to write a sweet, cheerful note on the blank card - after hearing his cover story that his writing was terrible - he'd taken her up on the offer without a second thought. Running out of time, he hadn't bothered to check the note.

Only later, too late, did he realize that he really should have taken the time to read it.


	4. Mothers Eels and The Card

So, apparently I'm nearing 10,000 words for this story - give or take a few dozen for author notes and such. So much for finally writing a one shot that was less than 5k words. And wow, didn't quite mean for the update to take a month to get out, but thanks to **JadeWolf28-woops! I mean WolfJade28!** for sending me a little nudge via pm. The last half of this chapter gave me the most trouble but all in all I find it satisfying. Oh! And got a new cover art for this, squee! Though it cut the top off I noticed even though I have the dimensions right... anyway! Enjoy and thank you for reading! I'll try to get the next one out faster but no guarantees. Rocket League can be quite distracting. ;)

btw, as readers do you prefer the FFnet line break or the simple -TMNT- line break?

* * *

"Technology moves us forward," the talking head on the TV screen announced with flair as a clip played behind him. "It allows us to travel, to talk - even helps you with your bills! But!" here the man paused dramatically as the clip behind him changed. "Technology has a dark side to it. It can ruin ice cream, destroy friendship and even run amok! Is it worth it? In our next mini-series, _you_ decide!"

Shredder chortled as the last clip to play was from his visit last week. They had even kept the part where Vernon faceplanted onto the machine. He reached over and smacked Krang's robot arm. "You see that Krang? Not bad for only having two hours to program the chip!"

"Only if you were talking about an infant programming it," Krang grumbled darkly. "What wasted potential you just threw away! That chip could have done so much more-"

"Oh, shut up." Shredder rolled his eyes in exasperation. Leave it to Krang to not see the amusement in such 'human' things. "And answer the phone!"

"Why should I?" Krang crossed his arms and did not move.

"Because," Shredder growled, leaning over so he could stare at Krang's face as the phone continued to ring in the background. "It was your fault that we got on the telemarketer's list! My Footbots still haven't located where they keep their database."

"You mean _my_ Footbots!" Krang corrected, lifting a tentacle up. "Don't forget you get them manufactured here in _my_ TechnoDrome."

Shredder waved a hand dismissively and turned away. "Minor detail. You're still answer the phone. Or would you rather I let Bebop answer it again?"

"I know you humans are brain damaged, but are you insane on top of that?" Krang squawked, wrapping his tentacles around the levers inside his robot body and started shuffling over to the phone. "After that last incident with the subscription based cookware? If it wasn't for me buying out their entire stocks we - yes, what is it - oh, well _hello_ to you too!"

Shredder stopped dead in his path to the exit. When Krang's voice turned suddenly sweet and polite he knew this wasn't an ordinary phone call and that in itself couldn't be good. Turning back around, he hurried over to Krang's side and hissed, "Who is it?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Krang gave him a sour look and waved at him in a shooing motion. "Oh yes, I totally agree with you on that."

Krang, agreeing with someone? This was not good. Shredder got a sudden sinking feeling of who it was and quickly reached for the phone. Krang shuffled to the side and out of reach, then covered the phone receiver. "Fine, fine, it's that mother of yours you haven't introduced me to. Fine head on that woman, I must say. Oh and by the way she says you look awful in that uniform on TV." Krang turned his attention back to the phone. "You would think so, Mrs. Shredder - I can call you Mrs. Shredder right? After all-"

"Give me that!" Shredder snapped, lunging again and this time managing to swipe the phone away from Krang. There was no way he was letting Krang and his mother get together, even just by phone. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that things just wouldn't end well. "Kaasan,"

"Oroku boy, is that any way to greet your mother?" the old but still strong voice chided right away. "And what was this I see you doing on TV, are you actually _working_ for a TV station?"

"No, of course not!" he protested immediately. "Who do you think I am? I wasn't named Shredder for taking acting positions!"

"And how would I know? You hardly call your poor mother anymore, Oroku boy, and you never tell me anything about your recent plans. Where's your family pride and honor?"

Shredder rolled his eyes at his mother's attempt to make him feel guilty. It only had the opposite effect. "I called you last month, mother. You said you were doing fine and said not to bother you so often."

She sniffed dismissively over the line. "If you don't smarten up and put more effort, Oroku boy, I don't see how you'll ever succeed and stay ahead of that law abiding brother of yours. What were you trying to do anyways? It wasn't very global panic inspiring in case you didn't notice."

"It was all Krang's idea," Shredder declared over Krang's protest. "He needed the Turtles distracted so he could steal some energy."

"It worked!" Krang snapped. "I did steal some energy!"

"No," Shredder eased the phone away from his ear, automatically tuning his mother out. "You stole eels. There's a difference, Krang."

"They're _electric_ eels," Krang stressed. "That's the difference. If you actually paid attention to your own planet you wouldn't be so stupid."

"I know enough to know that they're not really eels." Shredder snorted and smacked his hand down. "Bottom line, big deal, they make a little spark. What are you going to do with them, charge your nightlight with them?"

"Very funny, Shredder, but we'll see who's laughing once I've perfected my Super-size serum and... did you just hang up... on your mother?"

Shredder looked down to see he had indeed put the phone back on the cradle and did his best not to cringe. Shredder, the one and only deadly ninja who would be famous did not cringe - especially not at the mention of his mother. Before he could say anything the phone started ringing again.

"You answer it," Krang told him immediately.

"Are you insane?" Shredder hissed, backing away from the device.

"No, that's why I'm not going to deal with the doom you just brought on yourself."

"She's in California under guard, there's no way she can make good on any of her threats." None the less Shredder still hesitated for a split second before he snapped his hand out and sliced the phone line. "There, now I won't have to worry about that for the next month."

"Oh great, just great!" Krang threw up his hands - both sets of them. "You couldn't of just yanked it out of the wall like a normal person, could you? _Nooooo_! Now I have to go through the trouble of getting that thing replaced!"

Krang walked over to a nearby computer, muttering about the complications of getting such a rudimentary communication system replaced. Shredder just snorted at his whining and went back to the TV station. He was curious to see if they would actually air more of the faux copy machine demonstration.

"If you're not going to be doing anything," Krang snapped at him just as he was starting to sit back down in his seat. "You could at least go check on your two bumbling idiots for me. Make sure they haven't broken anything."

"They're your idiots too, you know, it was your mutagen," Shredder pointed out with a scowl even as he got back to his feet.

"Just because I created mutagen, doesn't mean I was responsible for how you used it," Krang slurped with a fanged grin thrown in his direction. Shredder threw up his hands and headed for the doorway.

"Make sure they didn't eat that fish food I bought," Krang told him over his shoulder.

"What?" Shredder stopped, hand on the doorway frame and raise an eyebrow at Krang. "What on earth do you need fish food for?"

"For the electric eels, of course!"

"Wait, let me get this straight." Shredder crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the doorway. "Are you telling me that you stole the eels but decided to buy the fish food?"

"At the price offered it was practically a steal already!" Krang crowed, rubbing his hands together. "There was no need to do any stealing when the stupid store owner was practically handing it to me."

Shredder gave Krang a blank stare but when it was obvious the alien wasn't going to add anything more, Shredder shook his head and shoved off the door frame. "And you call yourself diabolical."

"I heard that Shredder," Krang's voice took on an edge that signaled an end to his limited patience. "And make sure they leave my serum alone! It needs to sit without any disturbance for at least two more hours."

* * *

It was easy to know where Bebop and Rocksteady were. If they weren't stomping about somewhere on the TechnoDrome, you could always track them from their loud voices. Especially when you were a ninja.

"Hey, try sticking your tongue in there Bebop!"

"No! I ain't gonna get it zapped. You stick your tongue in there."

"Aw, Bebop these things can't zap anything. See, look. I've got my finger in the water and I'm just fine."

"That's cause yous got thick skin, Rocksteady. You ain't gonna feel anything through that."

"Oh... maybe you're right."

Shredder came into the room to find Rocksteady, not with a finger in the circular glass tank, but his whole hand swishing around in it. Shredder huffed in annoyance and snapped.

"Rocksteady!"

"Gaah!" The mutant human-rhino squeaked in surprise and yanked his hand out of the tank, staggering back as he clutched his hand. He glanced apprehensively between the tank and Shredder. "Boss, I think they zapped me! They actually zapped me!"

 _Why me?_ Shredder asked, not for the first time, hand on his forehead. _Why did I think having them for muscle was ever worth this?_

"Gee, maybe you're not so thick skinned as I thought." Bebop thoughtfully deducted, nibbling on a finger. "Those are some fish Krang brought back."

"They're not called fish." Shredder couldn't stop himself from scoffing. "And they certainly can't power anything more than a light bulb. Which is something you two never will have."

"I never need a light bulb anyway, boss." Rocksteady tipped his horn up proudly.

"Yeah, who would want a light bulb anyway," Bebop agreed, snorting. "That's totally stupid."

"I'm so glad you agree," Shredder bit out. "What are you two doing here anyway?"

"We was putting those boxes away," Rocksteady backed up to point at five large haphazardly boxes stacked up. "Something that Krang wanted."

"Yeah, probably for that alien fish soup he's making!" Bebop turned to point at the metal pot full of swirling magenta colored goop. In doing so he succeeded in bumping into Rocksteady who in turned stumbled and knocked against the nearby table. The motion set off a series of musical chimes as the various jars and beakers clattered against each other, one falling over and rolling to the floor to shatter.

Just what he needed, his henchmen creating a mess and Krang blaming him for the inevitable failure. He waved his arms wide and towards the door. "That's it! You two, out! Go vandalize Central Park or order take-out or _something_!"

The two henchmen moved out of habit and headed out the room, Rocksteady mumbling under his breath while Bebop hesitated by the doorway. "Aw, but I wanted to taste the alien soup!"

"Out!" Shredder gave Bebop a kick in the leg that got the man moving again. With the two mutants gone Shredder stomped back to the table and pot of what had to be Krang's serum to see if there had been any damage.

Picking up one of the tipped beakers, he flipped it around in his hand, trying to see if there had been anything in it. But the glass was clean and a cautious sniff didn't reveal any odd smells. There didn't seem to be anything spilled on the table either. Shrugging, Shredder placed it back on the table then used his whole arm to shove everything five feet away from the edge and the gooey filled pot. Someday Krang would find the brain space to learn that he shouldn't leave things just laying around. The pieces of broken glass he kicked behind the boxes.

Finished with doing the bare minimum, Shredder turned to leave but movement in the glass tank caught his attention. He leaned closer to the tank and watched as one of the electric eels poked around the bottom.

"Hmph, stupid alien brain didn't take the time to set this up properly." Shredder muttered. Not that he was going to do anything for Krang. But he did open up one of the fish food boxes and sprinkle a generous amount of the pellet food in before leaving for his office.

-TMNT-

After an hour of checking on various projects and reports from connections he had on the streets, Shredder found himself back in his office.

Which had a working phone. He sat and stared at it for a minute.

Sure, his mother was on the other side of the States and it wasn't like he hadn't hung up on her before. But there was the worrisome knowledge that she still had her own connections from her time as a villain (even if she never quite made ninja) before retirement. Perhaps it would be prudent to call, just to check out how mad she was. Then he could at least have an idea how to maneuver his own connections to block any of her attempts to teach him a lesson.

He picked up the phone and started dialing, looking over his shoulder as he heard Bebop and Rocksteady running down the hallway, their voices taking on a doppler effect as they passed by the doorway.

"Oh, oh! Pizza's here!"

"What? But I ordered Korean takeout!"

"No you didn't I was-"

Shredder tuned out their voices as he heard the phone start to ring. He already knew the general idea of what he needed to say so when the connection clicked he started talking before his mother had a chance to say anything.

"O-Kaasan! So sorry about the disconnect, would you believe the phone suddenly broke on me? And just so you know I care so much about you, I spent all this time getting another phone working just so I could call you back. You know I could never forget such a wonderful mother like you, right? Do you want to hear what I have planned for this week?"

There was a heavy pause after he finished talking.

"Umm... Mystery Caller?"

The voice was feminine but years younger and definitely sweeter sounding than his mother had ever sounded. "Irma!"

"It is you!" Irma cheered. "Wow, for some reason your voice is sounding really familiar today, are you sure you don't work in my building somewhere?"

"Er," Shredder was still fumbling with the sudden shift in thought process. "No. Definitely not."

"Aww, too bad - oh say, I better let you get off, yeah? Sounded like you were calling your mother and all. She must be really sweet!"

"No she isn't." Shredder scowled, too tired to even think of a polite phrase for his mother. "I'm just making sure she isn't too mad at me."

There was another pause, but this one felt even heavier.

"Oh." Strange how English had simple words that could hold so much more meaning. "Dear me, sounds like your mother is just like mine, one of _those_ mothers."

"What, she sends henchmen after you if you don't follow her plan?" Shredder snorted in disbelief.

"That's a wonderful way of putting it." Irma laughed. "Yes she would. She'd call up all her friends and they'd come after me and try to take me down."

Shredder felt his eyebrows go up. Irma had a villainous mother? This was certainly surprising and unexpected news. He would need to look into this further, especially if Irma had to survive power plays.

"So were you calling your mother because she's mad at you for not calling her, even though she said she was fine?" Irma asked dryly.

"It's more like what is she not mad about," Shredder sighed and slouched in his chair. "I don't know why I call her anymore, there's always something that I've done or didn't do that's disappointed her greatly."

"Mine would always try to compare me to my cousins." Irma confessed timidly. "It's gotten so stressful that I'm trying to not call her anymore."

"Huh, she does that with my brother, even though I know she hates the career my brother has chosen." Surprise and the understanding he could hear from Irma loosened his tongue before he could catch himself. He coughed, forced himself to pull back and draw his politeness around like a shield. "Yes, well, thanks for listening. I didn't mean to take up your time."

"Oh it was nothing!" Irma quickly reassured him. "Mr. Burne is out of the office dealing with wild turkeys on his roof so it's all calm at the office here. Besides, after that sweet little note you left me yesterday to cheer me up, I couldn't do any less."

"...note?" Shredder asked apprehensively.

"Oh, don't be so shy!" Irma chided. "Who else could it have been? Especially when you wrote a line like ' _your voice is the only light I need, to walk with you down the Boulevard_.' So now that you have outright said you like me, what time is our date?"

"Uh, that is, I mean..." Shredder stammered, somehow unable to deny anything Irma was saying. He grasped at the first thing he could use as an excuse. "Oh my, mother's calling on the second line, I have to go!"

He slammed the phone down and was back to staring at it.

What had that florist clerk gotten him into? What in the world was he going to do about it? He should have read that card. If he had, he would of known to shred it on the spot, regardless of trying to cheer Irma up. She would of done just fine with a rose and chocolate. But no, he had to give her a card.

The card. Yes, the card. If he could manage to get the card he could destroy it and any evidence of this silly issue that was suddenly becoming worse than he ever imagined.

Yes, Shredder nodded to himself and sat up straight. He was a ninja, if he could put the card on Irma's desk there was no doubt he could whisk it away like a kitsu.

He was so busy planning how to sneak into Channel Six News that he forgot to take into account the luck dragon sitting on Irma's shoulder.


End file.
